Anne FINCH: Adam Posed

Anne FinchAdam Posed

Could our first father, at his toilsome plow,Thorns in his path, and labor on his brow,Clothed only in a rude, unpolished skin,Could he a vain fantastic nymph have seen,In all her airs, in all her antic graces,Her various fashions, and more various faces;How had it posed that skill, which late assignedJust appellations to each several kind!A right idea of the sight to frame;T’have guessed from what new element she came;T’have hit the wav’ring form, or giv’n this thing a name.